


A Hand In Your Direction

by balancingprecariouslyontheedge



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, READ NOTES, another old fic, but i love it, please, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 05:10:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3369035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/balancingprecariouslyontheedge/pseuds/balancingprecariouslyontheedge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*previously on tumblr*</p><p>The five time when Zayn had the boys’ backs and the one time where he’s sick and stands on the edge of a building, wondering the fastest way to get to the bottom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hand In Your Direction

**Author's Note:**

> Another older fic, yay!! 
> 
> *TRIGGER WARNING* There is a near attempt at suicide in Zayn's part(the last one), so please feel free to stop reading if it triggers you.

1\. Louis

 

Louis always does stupid things that land him in deep shit, and then he ends up wishing he’d listened to Liam. Then Liam, forever Daddy Direction, would come like his knight in shining armor and bail him and which ever of the other boys out of whatever mess they’d landed themselves in.

But Liam went to Wolverhampton last night to go visit him family.

The funny thing is, through his drunken haze where his thoughts all meshed together and he couldn’t remember the name to the club he was at, he could ironically remember Liam stern gaze as he strictly told him not to drink too much.  
But Louis hadn’t been able to help himself, because he’d just been having such a good time with Harry and Niall that one drink turned into two, and two turned into some number that Louis couldn’t be bothered to remember. Liam would have definitely said the number was too big.  
Louis dazedly stumbled around the club, blinking too much and not really being able to tell where he was going. He bumped into to some lady with too much makeup and too little clothing, accidentally making her spill her drink down her revealing, sparkly red dress. He mumbled an apology, trying to get by, but his alcohol induced haze made in hard to see anything and he was lucky there weren’t any paparazzi in this club. The women batted her fake eyelashes at him seductively, and the drunk popstar shoved her out of the way without an ounce of regret.

Making his way through the dance floor filled with bodies throbbing to the club music, Louis stumbled toward a corner where he saw a mass of curls that he swore he’d seen before.  
"Louis?" Harry questioned uncertainly, as he almost tipped over the table trying to stand upright. The feathery haired lad looked at him without really seeing him.  
"Yeeeeeaaaahh Haaaaz?" He slurred out, barely able to string together a coherent sentence.  
"Babes, how much have you had to drink?" A slightly tipsy Niall inquired slowly. Louis smiled widely and kind of just slumped against Harry, who was sober enough to look concerned.  
"Loooooooooots, Niiiiialler. I see puuurty colorsssss," Even a drunk Niall saw that Louis had a bit too much. Suddenly, Louis jerked up.  
"Leeeeyum! Where’s Lili? I need him!" The boys could barely understand what he was saying.  
"That’s it, I’m calling Zayn to take us home." Harry said, feeling around for his phone. He was still a little drunk, after all.  
Zayn had been in Bradford, and he was supposed to drive home that night. Harry hated waking his lover at whatever ungodly hour it was, especially since he’d driven for hours, but Louis had started ranting about unicorns and leprechauns, and both Harry and Niall were getting worried. It took Harry a good five minutes to hunt down Zayn’s number on his touch screen phone, because he still was a bit tipsy. He tapped the glowing screen, then placed the sleek device to his ear.  
"H..Harreh?" A muffled voice spoke on the other end, stifling a yawn.  
"Hey Zayniekins, I—" Harry was interrupted.  
"Are you drunk?" his boyfriend questioned tiredly. Harry grinned.  
"Only a little. Boo bear, on the hand, is pretty tipsy. And Liam left for Wolverhampton and Niall is here and—"  
"Haz, do you want me to come and pick you lot up? At 2:30 in the morning?" Harry rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.  
"Um… yeah. Please?" Zayn sighed on the other end.  
"You’re lucky I love you, Styles." Harry smirked.  
"You—" But Zayn had already hung up. Harry turned to look at his other drunk boyfriend, watching Louis babble on about a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.  
"Zee said he’d come." he reported happily. Niall looked relieved.  
"Thank god. Louis is—" He was cut off by Louis’s elaborate rant about how lucky unicorns were. The youngest lad watched on, amused.  
The boyfriends sat there for about ten minutes, before they saw an exhausted looking Zayn making his way over to them.  
He wore grey sweatpants and a black t shirt that was too big on him. Harry realized smugly that the shirt was his. The boy’s raven hair was pushed back with a beanie, and he had dark circles under his eyes. He gazed at them tiredly.  
"C’mon babes, the car’s out back." Niall gratefully pulled Zayn into a hug, before kissing his nose. Harry followed the suit, before handing over a babbling Louis to Zayn.  
"Heeeeeey Zaaaaayniekiiiins.! I miiiisssed you! And so did Gina the uuuuuuunicorn!" Zayn, despite his exhaustion, chuckled, before helping the tipsy boy to his black Range Rover behind the club. Harry pulled Louis into the back with him, while Niall climbed into the passenger seat.  
Zayn started the engine, the soothing hum of the car lulling Louis to sleep.  
"He’s gonna have one hell of a hangover tomorrow," Zayn remarked, then realized with a sinking stomach that he was the only one sober, which meant he had to take care of a hungover Louis. He sighed, sinking into the plush seats of his car.  
Once they pulled into the driveway, Zayn carried Louis inside, staggering under his weight. He had always been significantly smaller than his boyfriends.  
The moment all the boys were cuddled on their huge bed, they were almost instantly a huge pile of snores and limbs. Almost, because Harry had a question for Zayn first.  
"What time did you get back from Bradford?"  
"Around one in the morning." Guilt immediately washed over Harry for forcing Zayn to help them, but said boy sleepily patted his cheek.  
"S’not a problem, Haz," Then Zayn was out like a light.  
It didn’t last very long, and Zayn was harshly woken up by a leg being pulled out from under his head, followed by uncoordinated footsteps.  
"Lou?" Zayn mumbled, and then he heard the sound of retching. Zayn sighed and checked the time. The numbers 5:30 am glared back at him, and he ran a hand through his hair before pulling himself off the bed.  
The Pakistani boy found an absolutely pitiful sight to greet him once he open the bathroom door. Louis was bent over a toilet bowl, puking his guts out and sweating rivers.  
"Oh Lou," Zayn eyed his lover sympathetically before putting his arms around him and rubbing soothing circles into his back.  
'Stage one of dealing with a hungover as hell Louis Tomlinson,' the popstar thought drily as Louis began to dry heave.  
Once Louis had stopped, Zayn pulled him into a hug, whispering sweet nothings in his ear as tears streamed down the older lad’s face.  
"Let’s get you changed, yeah?" Zayn murmured gently, and despite the fact that World War III was going on in his stomach Louis smirked.  
"Trying to get into my pants, are we?" The younger boy just shook his head fondly before pulling the other lad to his feet and helping him back to their huge room.  
Once Louis had gotten into clean clothes, Zayn settled him downstairs on the couch in order to keep his other boyfriends asleep. The Muslim boy tucked in his sick boyfriend, leaving a small trash can next to him in case he felt the urge to hurl again. After Louis fell into a fitful sleep, Zayn went into the kitchen and dug out some painkillers and a glass of cool water. He gently shook the other boy awake.  
"Take these babes, they should help." Louis sat up, apparently too fast. Next thing both boys knew, he was turned over to dry heave over the trash can. Zayn waited patiently, offering small bits of comfort when possible. When the older lad was done, he down the painkillers and water before promptly passing out.  
Zayn sighed before pulling the blankets up to Louis’s shoulders and replacing the trash can to get rid off the repulsive smell. He was just about to settle on the love seat and fall into the beckoning clutches of sleep when he realized that Louis might need him again. Groaning silently, he turned on the television but muted the volume. Toy Story 3 had been left in the DVD player, and he was to damn tired to change it. Zayn grabbed Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone and began to absentmindedly read about the cupboard under the stairs.  
As it turned out, he had been right to not fall asleep. Louis had woken up three other times to toss his cookies. He would go from crying to being irritated in a matter of seconds, and Zayn was running out of patience. But he held on. He rubbed Louis’s tense back as he was bending over the trash can. He fetched him cups of cold water when requested. He changed the sheets on the couch when Louis puked all over them.  
Zayn leaned against the refrigerator, exhausted as Louis fell into another restless sleep. He’d been moaning about a headache, which was all part of the hungover Louis package. ‘I should get paid for this,’ he thought drily. Suddenly the world tilted and Zayn blinked a few times to clear his vision. He could feel the merciless waves of exhaustion weight down his drooping eyelids. The 20 year old drowsily stumbled onto one of the kitchen chairs and decided he would rest his head. Just for a minute….

 

Louis woke up hours later to Niall shaking him awake as Harry called them into the kitchen. His headache was almost completely gone and his stomach had stopped doing backflips by then. He heard Harry coo and he followed Niall into the kitchen as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.  
The sight that greeted him made him almost melt right there and then.  
Zayn was sitting in one of the barstools, bent over on the hard, cool marble counter. His head was buried in his arms and the boy was passed out.  
"That’s just too cute," Harry whispered. Niall looked at the oldest lad pointedly.  
"He did come and pick us up from the bar at 2:30am, after driving for hours back from Bradford. And he took care of you while we were asleep." Louis nodded.  
"Yeah, I know. We lucked out with him, didn’t we lads?"

 

 

2\. Harry

 

Harry honestly adores America. From the accents, to the food, to the fans. America is just so, so different. The kind of different that Harry likes, of course. The fact that he’s a celebrity there is all still a bit surreal to him. There’re still a few downsides to the States, though.

The fact that it’s just so damn far from Holmes Chapel is probably the most prominent.

They’re in the middle of rehearsal for a concert when he gets the phone call. The other boys took five while he went into the hallway and checked the caller id. It’s Robin. Harry tapped the green answer button, confused at why his stepfather would call him now.  
"Hello?" He said, unsure.  
"Harry?" Robin sounded panicky, and at the same time on the verge of tears.  
"Is everything alright?" Harry questioned nervously.  
"Oh Harry," Robin choked back a sob. "your mother, she—"  
"What?!? What wrong with mum?!" Harry was on the verge of a breakdown.  
"Sh..sh..she was driving home, and…"  
"What happened Robin?!" Harry was scared out his wits at this point.  
"Anne, sweet wonderful Anne, saw a drunk driver on the road and swerved to avoid him. But she was following the speed limit and was too slow and… and.."  
"Robin, just tell me goddammit!" The popstar wanted to strangle his stepfather.  
"Harry, the drunk driver crashed into Anne’s car. She’s going into surgery right now and—-" The phone dropped to the floor with a loud resounding crash. Harry’s world was suddenly spinning and blending and since when were there three water fountains? He staggered back until his hand hit the wall and his vision was swimming. The young lad could dimly hear Robin’s staticky voice frantically calling his name but all he could actually hear was your mother was in a car accident and she’s going into surgery right now.  
Harry sank to the floor and harshly gripped his hair as he buried his face in his knees. Tremors ran through his body as sobs wracked his skinny frame. His mother was in surgery and he was in America.  
His mother could possibly be dying in Britain while he was in the United States of America. Suddenly, he didn’t adore the US so much anymore.  
When Harry’s five-minute break turned into twenty minutes, people were beginning to get alarmed. Harry was probably the most punctual boy they knew.  
"He’s still not answering his phone," Niall reported, becoming more frustrated by the second as he tried yet again to contact their missing boyfriend. Liam came back from talking to Paul.  
"Paul has a few people looking for him. But I don’t understand what happened!" Liam scrubbed his face in frustration and Zayn put a calming hand on his shoulder. Louis spoke up.  
"He left to answer a phone call. Any ideas on who might have called?" The other boys shrugged, adding suggestions but not really thinking.  
"Well it’s not going to do us any good just standing here. I’m going go look for him. Something might be seriously wrong." Zayn finally declared, before stalking off to go find his boyfriend. The other boys sat there for a moment before Niall spoke.  
"He has a point. I’m going to go look for him." Niall jogged off in a different direction.  
"Me too," Louis decided, before glancing at Liam, who nodded.  
"I’ll stay here in case he comes back and needs one us. Keep your phone on and text the others to do the same." Louis mock saluted before racing off to find his MIA lover. Liam fondly shook his head before walking over to talk to Preston.  
Zayn walked through the empty, stark white halls, calling Harry’s name. He stopped short when he swore he heard a muffled sob.  
"Harry?" he call hesitantly, slowly making his way towards the source of the sobs. The sight that meet his eyes broke his heart.  
Harry was curled up in the smallest ball possible, shaking and sobbing.  
"Oh Haz," Zayn murmured, slowly making his way toward him. Gently putting his arms around the younger lad, Zayn pulled Harry close, letting him sob into the crook of his neck which was quite hard considering the fact that Harry was taller than Zayn was.  
"What happened sweetheart?" Zayn questioned gently. Harry still didn’t look up at him. He did answer, though.  
"M…mu…mum had a…a… a c…car…ac…accident. I..in… su..surgery." Harry choked out, tripping and stumbling over his words.  
"Oh baby," Zayn tutted sympathetically before pulling the crying lad closer.  
The older boy pulled out his phone with his free hand and texted the boys that he’d found Harry and that they’d meet them at the hotel. He had just enough time to tap send before Harry had composed himself enough to speak without crying.  
"I want to go see her, Zaynie." Zayn sighed as he absentmindedly tugged on Harry’s curls.  
"I know babes. Trust me I kno—" Harry broke away, his red puffy eyes blazing.  
"NO! You don’t know! You don’t know, Zayn! My mum could be dying and I’m an ocean away from her! You don’t know!" Zayn gazed at him, but didn’t lose his calm. Harry still had a fire burning in his teary eyes as Zayn responded.  
"Remember last year? During the Up All Night tour? I got a phone call from my mum saying that my aunt wasn’t dying. She was dead. And remember the X Factor? When my dad called that my grandfather wasn’t dying. He was dead. I think I know just the least bit of what you’re going through." All through his mini speech, Zayn kept a straight face, and there weren’t even the barest traces of spite laced amongst his words. Just sorrow.  
Harry on the other hand, felt the guilt wash over him in waves, and suddenly all the fire drained from his captivating eyes.  
"I’m so sorry Zaynie. I just…" Harry crumpled and Zayn held him close again.  
"S’alright Hazzabear."  
They remained like this for about five minutes, Harry soaking in all the comfort he could from the older boy. Zayn, in the mean time, had been discreetly texting Paul and his boyfriends, filling them in on what was happening and what he wanted to do. Their Irish bodyguard reluctantly gave him permission to carry it out.  
"C’mon, Harreh." Zayn said gently as he stood up, pulling the other boy up along with him. Harry was numb, and couldn’t really process what was happening until he realized a good 30 minutes later that they were in cab that was currently dropping them off at an airport.  
"Why are we here, Zayn?" Harry asked, sniffling slightly. The other boy smiled at him.  
"We’re going to London, then we’re going to drive to Holmes Chapel."  
"What?" Harry breathed.  
"We’re going to go see your mum, Haz." The pure elation that Harry felt at that moment made him feel as if he were weightlessly floating, and his was sure his face would split in half with the size of his smile. But then he realized something.  
"We?" He inquired, still grinning like an idiot. Zayn chuckled.  
"I’m going with you. I called the called the boys while we were in the cab and they’re getting ready to catch a later flight." Harry highly disliked traveling alone, and the fact that Zayn would come with him made him feel like his mother almost wasn’t in surgery at this moment.  
"Grief can twist your mind until you can’t see straight. I should know. If I let you go alone, you’d probably kill yourself." Zayn stated, and Harry couldn’t possibly describe the sheer and utter amount of gratitude he felt towards his boyfriend. But then another thought struck him.  
"But I thought you hated planes." That was true, and Zayn, no matter how tough he seemed, was just an adorable softie who was afraid of heights. Harry was suddenly scared this wall going to turn out to be one sick joke. Zayn cupped his face and gently forced the younger lad to meet his gaze.  
"I’d do anything for you lads. You are my boyfriends after all." The simple logic in that statement made Harry feel stupid for ever thinking otherwise. His boyfriend tugged on his hand.  
"C’mon, we have a flight to catch." Harry let himself be pulled along until he stopped, yanking the smaller boy back.  
"What is it?" Zayn asked, and the pure genuinely concerned look in his eyes knocked the words right out of Harry’s mouth.  
"I… I just… Thank you." He said finally, and Zayn smiled.  
"Anytime, Harry. Anytime."

 

 

3\. Niall

 

Niall found security annoying sometimes. It wasn’t that he disliked them. No, Paul actually was a friend of his. But sometimes with security around, he just couldn’t fucking do anything.

The Irish lad wasn’t allowed to go anywhere without a member of security with him, and it was downright irritating. The fact that he had to sneak out to go to the Starbucks across the damn street proved that.  
Niall made it to Starbucks, signing only three autographs on the way, which he considered an accomplishment. As he stood in line behind two blond teenage girls who were having a whispered conversation, he swore he heard his name mentioned. The popstar uneasily brushed it off, until one of the girl’s blue eyes darted to look at him before she rapidly turned away and pulled out her cell phone. The other girl looked unsure.  
"I don’t think this such a good idea, Amy," she whispered, and Niall could feel the anxiety growing inside him. The other girl, Amy, scoffed as she typed away on her phone.  
"It’s only a few people, Laura. Besides, the others would kill us if we didn’t tell them." Laura still wasn’t convinced.  
"But what if our friends tell their other friends, or what if someone posts it on Twitter? I honestly think we should just—" She was cut off as Amy dug the 6in heel of her shoe into her foot. Laura winced.  
"Look," Amy hissed, glaring at her friend, "if you’re going to keep bitching to me, then just leave." Laura opened her mouth as if she were about to say something, tears brimming in her hazel eyes, before she closed it and raced out of the coffee shop. The other girl glared after her before tossing her hair and gave her order to the red headed lady at the cash register. Once Amy got her coffee, she stalked off. But Niall still couldn’t shake off the anxiety that something bad was going to happen.  
"Can I take your order?" The lady at the register pulled him out of his thoughts.  
"Oh, um yeah." Niall placed his order quickly, wanting nothing more than to just get out of there as quick as possible and cuddle with his boyfriends. Specifically Zayn, because Zayn could always make him feel better in times like this.  
Once Niall grabbed his drink and a muffin, he walked out of the coffee shop. Not really paying attention to what was going on in front him, the popstar dug out his cell phone. He was about to text the lads when he heard an ear piercing shriek that had all the others in the area staring at the source. His eyes scanned the area before he saw a group of at least fifteen girls screaming and pointing at him. A few other girls wandering around joined them, and the group seemed to be getting bigger. Then one of them, who he recognized as Amy, screamed louder than any of the others.  
"IT’S NIALL HORAN FROM ONE DIRECTION!!" She was pointing at him, Niall realized.

Oh shit.

Now he couldn’t exactly run away, because that would be kind of rude and mean, but before he had the chance to ponder a second plan of escape, he was surrounded.

Double shit.

Painted fingernails were clawing at him, feminine hands were tugged at his limbs in clothes, bras were thrown at him, high pitched screams and shrieks echoed through his ears and suddenly Niall couldn’t breathe. His airways were slowing closing and his precious lungs felt as if they were full of water. The claustrophobic boy’s feet were barely touching the ground and he whimpered.  
"Zayn," he said pitifully.  
In the meantime, Zayn had just entered the lobby of the hotel where he was going to meet the other lads. A pair of sunglasses covered his eyes as he kept his head down, trying not to attract attention. Suddenly, a nervous blond walked in front of him. She eyed him carefully, before whispering, “Are you Zayn Malik?” The awe in her voice was clear. The older boy sighed and took off his sunglasses. He flashed her a million dollar smile, causing her to blush crimson.  
"Yup. Do you need something babe?" He asked. The girl took a deep breath.  
"Um, yea. My name’s Laura and I think your friend.. uh… needs help." She squeaked out, and Zayn was instantly alert.  
"My friend?! Who?!" If it was one of the boys…  
"Your bandmate, actually. Niall." Zayn instantly pulled out his phone and saw no messages from his Irish boyfriend. He looked at Laura seriously.  
"Are you sure?" He questioned, and the blonde looked at him indignantly.  
"Of course I am! I’m not a crazy fan who’s dying for attention!" Something about her tone had Zayn convinced.  
"Where is he?" He asked frantically, and Laura bit her lip.  
"I think it’d probably be better if I showed you. But we have to hurry." And with that, she raced off, Zayn following her closely.  
Once they were outside the hotel, Zayn could here faint girly screams, and Laura led him around the side of the hotel, and the scream and shrieks grew louder. Finally, the younger girl stopped at the intersection behind the hotel and pointed to the Starbucks across the street. Zayn was practically seething at the sight in front of him.  
At least forty teenage girls were all mobbed together around someone, screeching and throwing whoever was in the middle around. Bras were flying around and people passing by stared. Zayn could make out some of the girls screaming Niall’s name at the top of their lungs. His fists clenched as he turned to Laura, and his gaze softened a bit. He offered her a small smile.  
"Thank you so much for telling me, babes. Do you want an autograph or a quick picture?" She looked so tempted to say yes, but then she remembered the mob in front her and sighed.  
"No, it’s okay. Niall needs your help." Zayn grinned and hugged her, rapidly scrawling his messy signature on her One Direction notebook she had been holding behind her back.  
"Thank you Laura!" he called as he raced across the street. The smile on her face was huge as she slowly turned around and walked in the opposite direction.  
Once the popstar had reached the mob, he saw just how traumatized Niall probably was. These girls were like a pack of hyenas, he realized.  
After a few failed attempts at shouting over them, Zayn gave up and dove in.  
"Excuse me! Get out of my way!" he shouted, and soon the girls realized there were actually two members of One Direction in their midst. The screaming doubled, and an elbow came out of nowhere and smacked the tanned boy’s cheek. He winced, but forged ahead, trying to reach his lover stuck in the middle. One hand tugged on his shirt and actually ripped a piece of the fabric off. A flash of blond met Zayn’s eyes, and he angrily shoved through the mass of girls until finally, he found Niall.  
Poor Niall was a quivering, pathetic mess, tears streaming down his flushed face. His shirt was quite torn up, and he had cuts littering his arms and even a few on his neck.  
"Nialler!" Zayn shouted desperately, and said boy’s head whipped around to face him. His eyes pleaded with him to help and Zayn could see he was holding back sobs while at the same time struggling to breathe.  
Once the Muslim boy was close enough, he pulled Niall close to him. The Irish lad gratefully huddled under Zayn’s strong arm, still shaking.  
Niall couldn’t really hear anything except for ear piercing shrieks, so he wasn’t sure exactly what Zayn said. But he did know that whatever words spilled from his boyfriend’s mouth made the noise die down almost instantly. Niall’s chest constricted as he tried to take a deep breath, and his face was beginning to turn purple from the lack of oxygen.  
"It’s going to be alright, Niall." Zayn soothed as he dragged him out from the huge crowd of crazy girls.  
Once they were about ten feet from the mob that had shamelessly begun to disperse, Zayn sat down on the sidewalk and pulled an air deprived Niall onto his lap.  
"Just match your breaths with mine, babe," he whispered into his ear, waiting for Niall to understand. Sweet nothings continued to spew from his mouth until the younger boy had finally begun to breathe properly.  
"Do you need a minute, Ni? Or do you want to go back to the hotel and cuddle?" Zayn asked softly.  
"I just want to get out of here," Niall whimpered with a shudder. Zayn slowly stood up, pulling Niall up with him. The Irish boy suddenly looked at the smaller lad’s face.

“You’re hurt,” he said guiltily, touching the bruise forming on Zayn’s face. The Bradford boy grimaced before shooing away his hand.

“It’s nothing.” He said firmly.  
"Alright baby, let’s go." Zayn declared. Then the older lad gestured for Niall to climb on his back. The Irish popstar looked at him incredulously, but when he saw his boyfriend was serious, he spoke.  
"But I’ll crush you!" Niall exclaimed. Zayn shook his head.  
"No, you won’t. Now come on!" The younger boy sighed but did what he was told. The smaller lad staggered under his weight for a moment, but he had an iron will so he started walking back towards the hotel.  
The second they arrived, their other boyfriends flocked around the exhausted boys. Niall was immediately yanked off Zayn’s back and into Liam’s strong arms. The other boys asked him so many questions at once that all Niall said was, “Zaynie saved me.” Said boy instantly blushed and bashfully gazed at the ground. The Louis pulled him into the hug.  
"Zaynie is our superhero."

 

 

4\. Liam

 

Liam doesn’t ask for help. Nope. He doesn’t need it. That was instilled in his head the second he decided to stand up to a bully. This was the annoying mantra that replayed in his head every time something went wrong.  
That stupid line was stored in the back of his head as Liam drove back to his boyfriends’ and his house from Wolverhampton at 1:00 am. He absentmindedly turned on the radio.  
He started laughing way too hysterically when he heard the familiar cowbells and guitar of What Makes You Beautiful blare through the speakers. When his own voice came through the speakers, Liam was practically wheezing with laughter. His eyes were watering and his face almost split in half with the force of his grin as he turned down the radio so he could focus on the road. Still, stray giggles slipped from his lips.

He’d definitely been driving for too long.

As he hummed along to the chorus, Liam couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that he was forgetting something important. It was lingering in the back of his sleepy mind, buried under mounds of memories and emotions. The exhausted boy shrugged off the feeling, but he couldn’t completely rid himself of it.  
About twenty minutes later, he heard a wet groan, followed by a choking splutter. Liam’s white Mercedes slowed down considerably, but the British lad still couldn’t process what was happening. Not until he heard the telltale beeping noise and he gazed at the dials behind the black steering wheel. He blinked a few times before he was able to see clearly.  
The thin needle was almost taunting him as it slowly moved back and forth between the ‘e’ and the gas station icon. It switched a few more times before a feeling of dread sneakily crept up through Liam’s toes and seeped through his strong bones, traveling higher and higher until the stupid needle finally landed on empty and his four door car shuddered to an agonizingly slow stop.  
"Don’t panic," Liam croakily whispered to himself, one hand still clutching the steering wheel tightly as he gazed at the vast expanse of road stretching ahead of him. A loud clap of thunder shook the poor lad to the core as all the lights in his car quietly faded until he was trapped in a suffocating darkness.  
Rain began to pound and smack his car relentlessly, beating on it until Liam had curled into a ball, scared out of his mind.  
How could he have been so downright stupid? Liam Payne does not forget to put gas in his car. No sir, that was what people like Louis did.  
A flash of lightning momentarily lit up his car, revealing nothing but the steady torrent of rain drumming on his windshield. The wet droplets sliding down the glass windshield did nothing but create false illusions of dark shadows dancing in the midst of the storm.  
Suddenly, Liam wanted to beat himself up because, seriously? His cell phone was in the cup holder literally five inches away from his hand. The frightened boy grasped it and hit the power button. The battery icon in the top right corner had nothing but the tiniest sliver of red glaring back at him.

Well. That’s just great.

Liam was smart enough to realize that he had enough juice to power his phone for one call. He rapidly clucked the contacts app and tapped a random name, desperately pressing the sleek, black device to his ear. A sleepy, familiar voice answered after the third ring, leaving Liam’s nerves in a frenzy.  
"Li?" The voice asked, yawning right after. Thank god, Liam thought, Zayn.  
"Zaynie?" His voice came out more of a pleading whimper than anything else as another resounding clap of thunder shook his car. The voice on the other end was instantly more alert as he heard the tone of his younger lover’s voice.  
"Liam? Is everything alright? Aren’t you supposed to be driving back from Wolverhampton?" The panic in the older boy’s voice was easily discernible. The younger popstar let loose another pathetic whimper as a crack of lightening lit up his soaked car once again.  
"Liam?! Answer me baby!" Zayn’s panicky voice crackled though his phone as a warning popped up, informing him that he had less than one percent of battery life left.  
"I’m scared, Zee," he whispered, "my car ran out of gas and my phone is—"  
A loud, obnoxious beeping noise made Liam chuck his cell phone at the windshield in frustration. The screen on his phone slowly faded to black, just like the rest of his depressing surroundings.  
This was a nice mess. His car was completely out of gas, down to the very last drop. His phone was dead, utterly useless. It was a full blown out storm outside, the wind picking up and swirling in taunting circles around the unusable vehicle. Liam slowly climbed into the plush, leather backseats of his Mercedes and curled up in the smallest ball he possibly could, trying to block out the shrieking wind that seemed to be feeding off of his inevitable fear. The 19 year old lad decided that the best option he had at the moment was to yield to the warm, strong clutches of sleep. Soon, the noise died down and everything swirled and spun until it faded to blackness, leaving the sleeping boy to deal with his terrifying nightmares.  
After about 45 minutes of restless, on and off sleeping in which a shaking Liam struggled to fight off the demons that terrorized his dreams, he heard a thud on his window. Thud was louder than the rain, and the 19 year old almost screamed. But he kept his cool, even as a light shone through the window, the shocking white momentarily blinding him. Once the initial glare died down, Liam almost did a double take, because he could barely make out a shadowy figure standing in the pounding rain.

 

With a jolt, he realized it was Zayn.

The poor boy was shivering like hell as the merciless rain beat down on him, but he remained calm as he indicated for Liam to open the door.  
With absolutely no hesitation, the lad inside the car quickly pressed the button the unlocked the door and Zayn almost fell into the car, slamming the door behind him.  
He shook the water droplets from his raven locks, watching guiltily as they splashed upon the leather seats.  
"I g..got your c..car wet," he croaked out, teeth chattering. Liam gently pulled the older boy into a warm hug. They remained like this for a minute or so, Zayn soaking in warmth from the younger get boy, until the Muslim boy pulled away from the embrace. He pouted as he spoke, the stutter gone.  
"I’m supposed to be saving you, Lili." he said, and the other boy would be damned if he didn’t find that cute.  
"Are you alright? There wasn’t an accident right? Just no gas?" He rapidly asked questions, all which Liam had answers to.  
"Yes, yes, and yes. And how’d you find me?" Zayn sighed and scratched the back of his soaked neck.  
"Well, when you stopped talking, I realized your phone probably died. And I remembered some talk of a bad storm coming over the way you normally use to come back from Wolverhampton. So I knew you were kind of scared, and I couldn’t let you stay here. So I left a note for the boys and drove over here." Liam pondered that for a moment, before asking something else.  
"But where’s your car?" Zayn pointed to the raging storm outside, his hand barely visible in the murky darkness.  
"The storm got so bad that I could barely see anything through the windshield and I decided I would be able to see better on foot. So I grabbed the flashlight I kept in the boot and walked about 75 feet and I kind of… um… walked into your car." Liam, despite the storm giggled, and Zayn pouted once again, before he pulled his coat tighter around his sopping wet body. The younger lad then realized that he had come wearing only flannel pajamas, a thin t shirt, and a small coat.  
"You could’ve caught your death out there!" He chastised the Pakistani boy.  
"I was too worried about you to change." The other boy retorted, and then he moved to open the car door.  
"I’m going to go and get the car." And before Liam could protest, he was gone.  
"You idiot," he muttered under his, breath, but he stayed put.  
Somewhere between five and ten minutes later, there was a blob of light pulling over next to him, which Liam could barely recognize as his boyfriend’s black Range Rover. His lover drove until the passenger door was right next to the back door of his car. A figure leaned over to unlock the passenger door, before indicating for Liam to come in as quickly as he possibly could. The younger boy sighed and pocketed his dead phone and keys to his car before opening the door. Immediately met by a shockingly frigid rain, he yanked open the passenger door of the glowing car and hopped in.  
Even though he’d been out in the rain for all of five seconds, Liam still had managed to get decently wet. He was still nowhere near as soaked as Zayn, though. His boyfriend had shed his jacket and carelessly thrown it into the back seat. The heat was blasting through the vents, instantly warming the two lads. Zayn let out a yawn before he skillfully made a U turn and began to drive back to their house.  
"I called some people and they’ll tow your car tomorrow, Liam." He declared, and damn, Liam’s debt toward his boyfriend just kept growing and growing.  
"Why did you get me now? In the middle of a stormy night?" Liam asked curiously, pulling at a loose thread on his shirt. Zayn looked him as he stopped at a stoplight.  
"I couldn’t stand the idea of you being alone in the middle of a storm. I’d honestly do anything for you."

 

 

+1. Zayn

 

Zayn legitimately still hasn’t figured out the music industry. He truly hadn’t. The fans that could turn on them at the smallest sign that something isn’t right. The media trying to eat them alive. The girls throwing themselves at their feet. Zayn’s a pretty intelligent guy, but this all seemed so surreal, so strange, and just so different that he didn’t get it.  
The 20 year old was pretty sure his boyfriends haven’t really figured it all out either. But he did know that they’re getting it much faster than he is. That scared the crap out of him, because Zayn doesn’t want these five amazing, beautiful boys to become utterly ruined and consumed by an industry none of them have even properly understood. So he protects them. If anything happens to them, he’s always the first one to respond. But lately, his boyfriends haven’t needed his effort as much, so at even the tiniest hint of trouble, he’s standing protectively in front of them.  
Sometimes, it all just got way to much and Zayn feels like he’s drowning in a sea of spiteful words and tweets, photoshopped pictures, and lies sprouting in the media that spread faster than wild fires.  
That’s something else he didn’t really get. Zayn was a 20 year old kid. He knew twenty sounded a bit old, but in truth, it’s not. He’s still a little boy who called his mummy every night, loved his sisters to pieces, and learned from his dad. The media didn’t seem to understand that, or want to. They made up lies about him sleeping with a different girl every other night, cheating on girlfriends he never had.  
So when everything got too much, he used to grab a pack of fags until the smoke stopped the shaking in his hands stopped, the tremors running through his body ceased. Until the constant insults were ingrained in his brain. But now he had quit smoking. It had been a thing he kept quiet about, and Zayn wasn’t even sure his boyfriends had noticed. Even though the whole reason the Muslim boy had quit was for them.  
Now he had turned to furiously sketching his dark emotions onto paper, depicting horribly gory scene of loss and tragedy. When that didn’t work, the Bradford lad read his mentions on Twitter, taking small mental notes on everything people thought was wrong with him. He normally agreed with everything, except for one thing.

@zaynmalik1d you Muslim terrorist

let’s all have a moment of silence for when @zaynmalik1d blew up the Twin Towers

make life easier for all of us and tell us where the Taliban are hiding @zaynmalik1d

That made no sense. None at all. First of all, he had never even touched American soil until he had become famous. Second of all, he had been just a kid when it happened.  
One time, he even did the math and found out he had been eleven years old when 9/11 happened. Why anyone would tell him he crashed planes into buildings was beyond him, but on top of that, that fact that he had been 11 when it happened…  
Zayn kept a knife under his bed. It was nothing special, just a small, black pocket knife. It had been a gift from his grandfather, before he died. Every now and then, he sat on the fuzzy carpet next to his own queen bed(which he hardly used because he slept in a bug bed with the boys) and just looked at it. He turned it over in his hands, and felt it’s smoothness running over his soft skin. His fingers wandered around the small crevices and miniscule imperfections of the knife. Then he’d flip open the blade and run the dull end up and down his tattooed arms, wanting nothing more than to flip over the blade and feel the sweet pain consume him.

But he never did.

If someone ever asked Zayn why he didn’t(which no one ever did ever did because nobody knew), the answer would be simple. The Bradford boy had four other lads, and even though he wasn’t sure they loved him as much as he loved them, he knew they depended on him. As their knight in shining armor, Zayn protected them.  
But that job added to his ever-growing pile of stress. On top of management, paps, Twitter, haters, and wannabes, his boyfriends were always on his mind.  
Was Liam under too much pressure but hiding it from them again?  
Was the hate getting to Harry again?  
Was Niall insecure about his weight again?  
Was Louis insecure about his voice again?  
These annoying questions pestered him until he was teetering on the edge of flipping shit. Flipping shit also apparently wasn’t an option when you were famous.  
It was times like these when staring at knives and reading hateful comments on Twitter didn’t work. Actually, this was kind of the first time something like this had happened.

 

The boys were in France on tour, and it was nearly midnight. They had gotten back to the hotel around eleven, and all the boys had immediately crashed onto their bed together(Paul had requested for to king sized beds to be pushed together in their luxury suite to accommodate all boyfriends)

Zayn couldn’t sleep, because he was sure he screwed up his vocal in Live While We’re Young, hadn’t gone high enough in Rock Me, and his riff in Last First Kiss hadn’t been nearly has flawless as all the others he’d done in countless other concerts.

Then, walking back to the van that would take them to the French hotel, they’d been stopped by a few fans and asked to take pictures and sign autographs. All of the girls had not-so-politely demanded that the ‘Muslim fag’ stayed out of their picture. And that he didn’t sign their t shirts.

After that, the boys’ after show high hadn’t even begun to wear off, and they were so rambunctious and loud that they hadn’t even noticed how low Zayn was feeling. As Niall told stupid jokes, Louis shouted dirty ones, Harry laughed and Liam half-heartedly chastised them while giggling, Zayn sat with his pounding head leaning against the tinted window. He hadn’t been feeling well at all lately, but the poorly boy hadn’t told his boyfriends. He was supposed protect his lovers, not worry them. Once they’d pulled over at the hotel, they were all immediately drained of the adrenaline that had previously been coursing through their veins. Exhaustion had them all dragging their feet, pulling each other along. It hadn’t honestly been all that hard for Zayn to quietly slip out the door while all the other boys cuddled on their bed.

Coming back to the present, the ill boy sniffled wetly, letting out a few throaty coughs. A small breeze picked up, leaving Zayn wishing he’d brought his jacket. He instantly crushed the thought, because he knew that he deserved all negative things that ever came his way. Twitter told him those facts, as well as a good amount of fans from the meet and greet earlier. Sneezing, the Bradford boy slowly walked closer to the edge of the roof of the hotel. Wiping his nose with his skinny arm, he gazed down at the rushing, glowing traffic that lit up the streets below. As he stood there, he unconsciously wondered what it’d be like to just take one more step. Just a small one.

Zayn did, and then another one. Right up until his toes were hanging over the edge of the roof, he walked. He shuddered, because he’d honestly never really been the one for heights.

Suddenly, the Muslim boy wanted to jump. He wanted to take one more step and just let go of all of these stupid burdens that had been shoved onto his not-so-strong shoulders ever since him and his boyfriends had been thrown together as a band.

 

His boyfriends.

 

Those four boys were the reason Zayn hadn’t jumped yet, but they were also a part of the reason he was standing on the edge of the damn building in the first place.

The sheer amount of stress that the job of keeping these four lads he’d come to love was overwhelming, and the 20 year old was starting to wonder if maybe, just maybe, the boys would be better of without him. They’d lose about half of the bad publicity they got Zayn told himself. Less bad publicity meant less hate, which was a brilliant in Zayn’s mind.

Yeah, the boys would be much better off with me Zayn convinced himself, and this wasn’t just some act of self pity. No, this was an actual fact.

He let out another harsh cough, which wasted no time in turning into a full out coughing fit. Once, he’d regained some semblance of control over himself, Zayn took a deep breath and pushed his left foot a little bit more over the edge. A strong wind almost knocked the exhausted boy off his feet, but he held his ground. This proved to be easier said than done because his fever had really done a number on his knackered body.

A lone tear escaped from his eyelid, and Zayn briskly wiped it away before shuffling his right foot a millimeter more over the edge. Zayn realized that if he did it one more time, he’d fall over the edge. He would die. Cease to exist. End.

 

Would that really be so bad? And with that, Zayn inhaled shakily for what he thought was the last time and…

 

 

“DON’T DO IT!”

 

Zayn’s head whipped around so fast that a loud crack was heard. He stayed in his position of balancing precariously on the edge of the building. He would’ve laughed at the sight in front of him if he wasn’t about to commit suicide.

All of his boyfriends had burst through the door, all red, panting and sweating like dogs, having just climbed god knows how many flights of steps. They all had panicked, frantic looks in their eyes, and none of were moving.

 

The reality of the situation seemed to be crashing upon them all.

 

Louis was the first to recover, and he tentatively took a step forward. It was as if he were treading on thin on ice, which he might as well have been. Zayn rigidly remained in the same position.

 

“Zayn,” Louis said, taking another step forward. “Zayn, please don’t do this.” All he got in response was a harsh, wet cough that had all the boys wincing. Niall walked forward until he was standing in front of Louis.

 

“Zee,” he began gently, “why do you want to do this?” It was a simple question. Niall wasn’t demanding anything from him, or begging him, so Zayn decided to answer.

“I don’t w…want to d..do th..this anymore,” he mumbled, stuttering and stumbling like hell over his words. Niall quickly pondered this before choosing his next words carefully.

 

“Do what?” he asked slowly. Zayn sniffled.

 

“Everything. When I auditioned for the X Factor I expected not to even make my audition, forget actually getting third place the whole competition. After we won, it was all just a dream. Releasing our first single and whatnot. But then it all became a nightmare, because the weight of the entire fucking world was being shoved on our shoulders and sometimes… sometimes it’s just…. it’s just too much.” The sick boy’s shoulders sagged as he vent out some of his pent up frustration. His eyes never met his boyfriends’ gazes though, because he knew that all he would see was disgust and hatred. Then Harry decided to speak up.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” he spoke softly, like he was afraid this would set him off, but Zayn’s body just seemed to droop even more with defeat.

“Yeah,” he whispered back.

“Can you tell us? All we want to do is help. Please Zayn.” Liam chimed in, almost begging for an answer. At this point, all of the boys were standing next to each other, facing their missing lover.

“I,” Zayn rubbed the back of his neck, an bright red blush making a home on his already flushed, overheated face.

“Yes?” Louis prodded.

“I just…everyone already hates me. The fans, the paps and the media, Modest, everyone and no, don’t even try to deny,” he said firmly, looking at his boyfriend’s mouths that looked ready to protest. Then he pointedly continued.

“And I really, don’t want them to hate you lads, because you all deserve so much better than that. I want to protect you guys and sometimes people hate me for it and sometimes… I just feel so alone, you know?” After he finished, the Bradford boy let out a sneeze. Louis stepped closer at the same time Liam did.

“Oh sweetheart, you’re never alone. Not now. Or ever.” Liam soothed, taking the words right from Louis’s mouth.

“But I just feel like it. I’m so different from you guys and that’s a bad thing, according to everyone else.” Harry responded to this.

“But baby, we don’t care that you’re different. That makes us love you even more! It doesn’t matter that you’re Muslim or—“ he was cut off by a bitter laugh.

“Not according to everyone else. The fact that I have a different religion than you lot just sets everyone off. People say the worst things and I try, I try so hard not to let them get to me but I can’t help it. There’s too much,” By the end of his mini speech, Zayn’s bottom lip was quavering and he seemed as if he were about to burst into tears.

 

“Babes, I know it’s hard to ignore what they say. We all get some hate. But just come to us. Let us protect you.” Harry said soothingly.

 

“Yeah. I know things look really bad right now, but we’re your boyfriends. You don’t have to protect us anymore. It’s okay to ask for help.” Liam added.

 

“We love to the moon and back, no matter what. I’ll go on Twitter tomorrow and go all Tommo bitch on any fan who dares to say a words against the most beautiful, hot, amazing, boy in history.” Louis said determinedly, earning a small smile from Zayn.

 

“Like Lou said, we love you. Zaynie, I know you feel like you have to protect us, and we’re extremely grateful for every single thing you’ve ever done for us, which is a lot. We’re always going to be indebted to you. But now, let us take care of you. We want to. We’d enjoy protecting you and caring for you, babe.” Niall’s speech had by far the most affect on Zayn, and he had an endless torrent of tears streaming down his beautiful face. He held his arms out.

“Help me?” he asked pitifully, and the boys’ hearts all broke to see their lover in so much pain.

“We promise.” Harry declared. But before anyone could do anything, a strong wind came out of nowhere and everything seemed to happen in slow motion. One second Zayn was asking for help on the edge of a building, the next he was slipping. His mouth shaped in a small ‘o’ as a soundless scream escaped from it.

“ZAYN!” Liam screeched desperately, being the first one to recover. A sob emitted from Louis’s mouth and Niall brokenly fell to the floor. Harry just stared, not really processing what had just happened. Ten he raced forward, and Liam was afraid he would do something stupid so he was hot on his heels.

The youngest boy stopped short, and Liam nearly ran into him. Sucking in his breath, Harry gazed in shock at something below him. Niall rapidly scrambled to stand up and Louis yanked him over to his other boyfriends.

There, dangling from the edge of the ten story building, was Zayn, trying desperately to hold on with one hand. Liam and Harry were instantly on there knees, hoisting him up while Louis and Niall made sure none of them fell off.

Once Zayn was safely in all their arms, he sobbed. He let out every single damn thing that had been building up in his aching head for so long.

“Oh baby, your burning up,” Niall whispered, laying a cool hand on his red forehead. Zayn simply snuggled further into his warm touch, causing all the other boys to coo.

 

Niall, Liam, Louis, and Harry were ready to protect their boyfriend.

 

And Zayn was more than ready to let them.


End file.
